


Smoking in Church- What Fuck do I Give?

by PeppermintHippo



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angel's perving on Sex, I might have opinions about Religion..., I'm not sane but it's okay, M/M, Sex, Sinning in Church, The Holy Grail of Sticking it to the man, recovering catholic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:41:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29367954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppermintHippo/pseuds/PeppermintHippo
Summary: But Stan’s been staring at this high domineering ceiling for twenty two years, and he misses the sky. Columns and angel paintings can’t move. Clouds can, and they do, liquid and majestic and tell better stories.This exact monologue is the one he used on Kyle earlier this week, which had sounded better in his head than out loud. It sounded very gay out loud.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Smoking in Church- What Fuck do I Give?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm inside a psych ward right now, but they're letting me write gay shit to pass the time :p

‘’Stan- c’mon. We shouldn’t be doing this.’’

Honestly? They probably shouldn’t. The stained windows are like wise old eyes shunning them under their discriminating gaze, completely judgemental. Completely unforgiving.

The structure of a church has always been beautiful. Not as beautiful as nature- have you seen nature? Be real. Regardless, Stan could still appreciate manmade beauty where due.

But he’s been staring at the high domineering ceiling for twenty two years, and he misses the sky. Columns and angel paintings can’t move. Clouds can, and they do, liquid and majestic and tell better stories.

This exact monologue is the one he used on Kyle earlier this week, which had sounded better in his head than out loud. It sounded very gay out loud.

Which is no problem- gay? Pfft- totally fine, nothing wrong with it. A-okay to be gay. But Kyle is sensitive about that stuff, for whatever reason remains baffling. Stan blames their home-fucking-town. It’s an easy target pin on their relentlessly long list of fuck ups in life.

What? Moving away and creating a life for himself wasn’t enough? You needed to go to college? Well he’ll go to college. What- Not enough? you need a high salary job right away while you pay off student loans? Well he’ll get a job with this college degree he murdered his youthful spirit to obtain. No problem at all parents, want anything more? Right, now a fucking family. Well he’s got a fucking family, good enough for you??

Although, Stan’s parents wouldn’t consider Kyle a decent answer to that question. Oh no, they talk about a sensible wife, a little on the plain side but at Stan’s tempo; who will bear him adorable children with a gross likeness to Randy. Kyle doesn’t fit the profile, not one bit.

Which, not to split reasoning, is partly exactly why Stan subconsciously picked him. That big fuck you revenge to the parents- ha! Your son is gay, and he’s fucking his childhood best friend. The greatest fuck you they could think of, and Stan continues to provide those fun heart attacks on thanksgiving dinners when he leans over to tease Kyle’s ear with his mouth in front of everyone. So Kyle gets sensitive about it, which only gives reason for Stan to lay it on thicker, just for the hell of it.

But oh- he is definitely going to hell for this. Which is exactly why he now drags Kyle by the wrist into their old town church, shit-scared but determined. Twenty two years of sitting through boring communion, through boring sermons and choirs, through boring priests and nuns and wafer crackers and angels judging him from below.

The idea hit him back in high school, forced to dress up on Sundays when he could have saved that valuable time playing videogames. What else was he to think about? It was only a fantasy then, too terrifying to even consider, and it’s not like it was even possible then. But now, they’d grown up, they’d moved away, and they’re back here for the holidays. Well. What beautiful justice, in holy holiday spirit to make the lord blush in his own fucking house.

Kyle has never been on board with the idea. Back in college together a few years back, Stan mentioned it, drunk and failing to sound seductive with the kick of liquor in his side. Kyle had just laughed it off. The more he continued to bring it up, the more obsessed he became with the idea, and eventually became, and remains, his top fantasy. He’s not even really certain why, besides wanting to have some fun in a place where all joy had always been sucked from him. And to make insult to injury that little bit sweeter, doing it with the boy Catholics would gasp and pray for his ‘recovery’ in the future.

Kyle to this day, doesn’t share his humour, ironically. Considering Stan is the recovering Catholic, and Kyle is the Jew, their opinions about this should be reversed. ‘Should’ is maybe the wrong word, but even that Stan finds funny.

Kyle never tried very hard to talk him out of this, and this time one week ago, Stan resolved to finally grow a pair and do it while they were in town. _Really_ , it’s Kyle’s fault for not fighting hard enough, but despite literally being dragged by Stan through the open corridors up to the podium he’d always imagined it would happen, Stan doesn’t truly believe Kyle doesn’t want to be here. They’ve both got a giddy, guilty exhilaration pumping them forward, but Kyle’s just carefully masked with caution.

Stan feels like he’s been hiding a secret boner for this guilty desire since he was fifteen. He’s definitely thrown caution out the goading stained glass window.

Stan takes Kyle up to the elevated podium front of the room the sermons were always spoken by father Maxi before he died three years ago. A new guy has apparently replaced him, but Stan hasn’t actually set foot in this church lining Starks pond since he was eighteen.

‘’You sure no one is gonna come in here? It’s pretty open,’’ Kyle says anxiously, glancing at the doors.

‘’I made sure we picked a day staff don’t loiter around here- unless the new priest decided to change that.’’

‘’Wonderful reassurance,’’ sarcastic as ever, Stan knows him too well to believe he’s _really_ annoyed.

‘’You okay?’’ they aren’t doing anything yet- Stan is already titchy with anticipation, but if Kyle isn’t okay with it he’d never follow through, obviously. Kyle apparently notices this in his eyes. The fuck how? Has remained a mystery to Stan since the dawn of wanting him.

‘’I’m just- you know. I’m Jewish dude, I have hangups about desecrating sacred sites and temples for a religion that doesn’t like us to begin with.’’

‘’But that’s the fun part. And we won’t _really_ be desecrating-‘’ Desecrating is precisely Stan wants to do, that exact word. Desecrate the podium, desecrate the stands, desecrate all over the sacred floor. Until they’ve sufficiently flipped god off for making them be born here, to those parents, to this world.

‘’Fucking in a church Stan, it’s pretty goddamn severe isn’t it?’’ Kyle deadpans him, which he doesn’t appreciate, like he doesn’t understand all this already.

‘’That’s the point dude- we’re basically irredeemable in the eyes of god anyway- so let’s just go all out!’’

‘’You’re so dumb,’’ Kyle grins. ‘’You’re lucky you’re handsome, or I’d have left you for Troy.’’

*Troy, is the college mascot for CSU, a brown and white miniature cow that is usually worn in costume by very short people who couldn’t cut the cheerleading group at football games. Stan and Kyle attended these football games- but never played in them. Stan’s best football years were in high school, and he left them there where they belonged.

‘’Troy wouldn’t complain,’’ Stan sighs. ‘’Troy would be bending over that podium right now for me, no questions asked.’’

‘’Asshole,’’ Kyle laughs, looming closer, exactly what Stan wants. ‘’Troy wishes he had an ass like me.’’

‘’I don’t know, looks pretty average from here. Maybe you should give me a better look to change my mind,’’ Stan teases, leaning forward to bump Kyle’s nose both as fluff and a threat to be ready. Kyle looked ready, finally showing the wildness in his eyes Stan had been waiting for, like; _come wreck me if you can fucker. Go ahead and try._

Stan does love a challenge.

It’s not like it’s any different than at home. Nobody is here, or anywhere near the church grounds. The only eyes watching are god’s- and maybe those angels on the ceiling. Though if the whole thing really is to be believed, god has been watching them every other time they _desecrated_.

Stan stopped practising his family’s faith back in college, at first just because he couldn’t fathom getting out of bed on Sundays (one of the only free days in a week full of gruelling school) to go to church. Kyle wasn’t attending synagogue anymore either- also out of laziness. Eventually he found enough sense to stop dedicating so much brain power to the whole thing at all. Stopped doing things with the afterthought- was that very catholic of him? Would god approve? And maybe most damning; do you actually hate gays? Or was the bible misinterpreting something?

He really didn’t have time to question the ethics of his existence, not with people like Kyle in his life openly disregarding the beliefs that stumped Stan from being himself for so many years. All that self-doubt in high school- thrown away opportunities. It was Kyle who made the initial move on him by the end- he didn’t even fathom the concept that it might be wrong to cross that line. And it’s Kyle now who crosses over again, pulling Stan forward by the collar and kissing him up on the stage.

If the angels were watching, they’d be flipping over the clouds in shock.

It takes them barely any time to get into it, the first hand jitters dissipating instantly once they find each other’s touch again. Stan licks into Kyle’s mouth like he’s done a thousand times, Kyle returns it in generous laps of his tongue.

Stan is physically unable to stop groping Kyle long enough to haphazardly undo his fly, so Kyle helps him out. Clumsily, but they’ve never been able to be anything else in this town. They revert to teenagers every time- fucking like inexperienced losers and always titchy about getting caught- like after 5 years they could still get called out.

Stan supposes they could right now, in the most incriminating location that would involve more than a slap on the wrist. Stan is so fucking turned on about the idea, feeling like maybe he is 15 again- daydreaming about something terribly sinful right behind where father Maxi is reciting a line about the glory of the divine. ‘Sinful’ in Stan’s mind at that point, was maybe rubbing cocks together and kissing. But it had always been Kyle in the image, from the very start. Finally getting it here, as they close in on each other and gracelessly start grinding- he’s achieving his dreams.

Other kids wished for cars and money at that point in their life. Fucking South Park.

Kyle doesn’t waste time- probably still nervous and wanting to get out before they get caught. Stan’s feeling the exact opposite. If he knew Kyle was up for it (he usually isn’t) Stan would have laid out roses and candles in preparation and spend hours making sweet slow love, the most painful slow burn to god. But alas, Kyle loves hard, powerful, efficient fucks. Stan quite likes them too.

Stan decides to make his universe at Kyle’s suckable neck while Kyle does the chore of yanking down their pants. Or giving his best effort trying to- easily distracted by the tongue nibbling up his neck. His eyes at the back of his head are on high alert despite his assurance they won’t be interrupted. He’s like sixty percent sure nobody will come.

‘’You’re no fair,’’ Kyle sighs in exasperation, already melting to Stan’s loving sabotage, lost to completing his task. Stan finishes the job for him, freeing the almost painful hardness he’s been struggling with all day for this. He just shoves his jeans all the way down, takes them off along with shoes to avoid tripping. It’s also a risk, if that despaired churchgoer or unexpected nun arrive, they’ll be caught out in the worst way.

But today is about desecrating, not cutting corners. So he goes ahead and shoves down Kyle’s too, and follows to rush off his shirt. The chill in the air gives them goosebumps, and Kyle clings to him for warmth once they’re fully naked. Right down to the fucking socks.

‘’Oho, going all out today are we?’’ Kyle smirks with lowered eyes once they’ve been ceremonially undressed, keeping Stan’s mouth on him.

‘’You didn’t really think I’d let you get away with a quick safe one did you?’’ Stan turns to suck at his jaw, bites it. Kyle hitches his breath. ‘’You’re here to get wrecked before God’s very eyes.’’

‘’You quite belong in hell don’t you Stanley?’’ Kyle grins. ‘’That’s positively _sinful_.’’

‘’You have no idea.’’

That’s a lie, because he is quite confident that fact is quite literally hammered into Kyle while Stan nails him on the podium. Kyle supported up on the peculiar block used for sermons, legs twisting lewdly around Stan’s hips while they sweat, moan and crash together like wave meets rock. If that wave was Stan’s rock hard cock.

They remain teenaged amateurs, and it’s even like they think like ones. Stan is suddenly immensely proud of himself for disobeying and breaking something very sacred, doing the deeds of Satan. Who is he kidding, him and Satan are buddies at this point. He tries to use his Kyle-mind reading powers- but can’t focus on anything but his body and the shapes of his whining moans at every heavy handed shove of their hips.

They must sound ridiculous, but there’s nobody around to make fun of their goofy-ass sex voices, and unlike his old bedroom him and Kyle share when they visit, here they can be as loud as they please. And they do not take it for granted.

Where once the church choir filled the height of the room with synchronised melodic harmony, now Kyle’s depraved filthy sweet cries of pleasure replace it.

Where once Sermons were drily recited and lectured quite literally like school, now the non-existent audience gets a full shot view of Stan pounding ass- as best as his teenage mind can think to do. Since that’s apparently the theme.

‘’Ughh,’’ Kyle groans from up at the ceiling, mouth stuck open and panting. Stan wipes his bangs from his face and speeds his pace. ‘’Dude- aah, dude I can’t- it’s like they’re looking at me.’’

It takes Stan a moment to understand, as Kyle stares up at the suddenly imposing decorated ceiling flooded with painted angels. ‘’Oh- well they’re not really there. Just paint.’’ He tries to assure him.

‘’Yeah but- ung,’’ Kyle whines in his throat at a particular angle Stan manages to find. ‘’It’s like god is judging me- he knows we’re doing bad. I’m cursed enough dude- I couldn’t handle a lightning strike to the face.’’

‘’He wouldn’t do that,’’ Stan frowns, pretending to be completely certain. ‘’It’s not a big deal.’’

‘’Yes it is!’’ Kyle says. ‘’Oh god we’re actually fucking in church, my mother would kill me.’’

So apparently Kyle is taking this adolescence act very seriously. Back in the city, he never gives two shits what his mom would say. Stan decides to play along. He pulls Kyle up and lands close to his ear, dick snug inside. Kyle huffs out a wibble at the movement.

‘’She never has to know. In fact she’ll never know. You can ride home easy with the pride that you’ve defied them in the most devious way possible. Don’t you wanna own it?’’

‘’How would _your_ parents feel,’’ Kyle tries, not certain yet. He remains clinging to Stan’s back as he’s propped onto the podium.

‘’They’re never gonna find out,’’ Stan sings into his ear. ‘’And your mom will never know her son was fucked hard all over the local church one morning, until the place was dripping in steam. Won’t she?’’

Kyle’s eyes are closed again, and his tooth is snagging on his kiss-fattened lip to prevent an embarrassing moan. Stan knows him, that’s all he’s holding now. He wants it, hard, and Stan can tell he’ll ask with his eyes before they even open.

But he still can’t replace the immeasurable thrill in his chest when they do.

So, to make good with his deepest desire culminated driving up to Stark’s pond here, Stan manages to quite literally, how you say? Make a Jackson Pollock out of the church.

They crash the podium over in their haste at one point- and just continue sprawled out onto the floor, likely bruised but so engrossed in each other that they couldn’t care less if the rapture happened above their heads. Kyle tries and fails to find a grip with the floor at the ruthless speed Stan masters on him, and just melts and moans and mumbles desperate little pleas to go _faster, faster, god won’t forgive me but please just harder faster faster._

Stan can’t help completely adore him when he starts to get like that, unable to keep a cool act as he lathers his infatuated kisses all over Kyle’s neck and lips and hair, all the while keeping up the punishing pace. Kyle goes abso-fucking-lutely insane for it.

High above the ceiling, while the Church is echoed with Kyle’s shouts riddled with ecstasy, the sound of angels writing complaint forms to the almighty thickens in the air. It shouldn’t make it even harder to last, but Kyle is sabotaging his ability by being irresistibly- uncharacteristically slutty.

He’s proud of himself for resisting release for a few seconds, tested to the brink by the swelling heat boiling close to explosion, but Kyle apparently can’t manage the same and comes all over Stan’s chest as he babbles incoherent appreciation, clinging to Stan’s neck and breathing hard through it. Stan hasn’t lasted as long as he’d planned but can’t hold back anymore, releases inside Kyle with a heavy groan and final shove that seal the deal and effectively shuts him down into pure white hot bliss.

They’re both breathing like marathon runners coming down, sweaty and breathless and inseparable on the floor. They likely look like a pair of wounded chimps huddling at a gunshot from god’s view. Stan wants to flip him off while they’re in the high.

The floor is a mighty fine place to recover anyway, and Kyle is, and has always been Stan’s favourite partner for this part. Not to mention only partner.

Kyle doesn’t hesitate to kiss the vulnerability of their connection, assures him every time they were in it together and will always stay that way. Kyle’s hasn’t so much said it in words before, but Stan couldn’t imagine a life without him.

‘’We should do this again sometime,’’ Stan says, lazily tickling the back of his neck. Kyle comically reels back as he says it, and grins devilishly.

‘’Oho no. You got me this far. We’re desecrating now, all the way.’’

‘’What happened to Mister Righteous?’’ Stan taunts.

‘’You fucked it out of me genius. In a goddamn church. Now suffer asshole,’’ Kyle announces, sitting up quickly and straddling Stan. Stan is surprised, but more interested, and his cock agrees.

Jackson Pollock was a bad example. The next half hour is spent like the making of the Starry Night, pure timeless art, irreplaceable and glorious. They make the angels weep in pain, forced by the properties of paint to sit there in horror and watch as the two of them ravish each other all over the goddamn house.

The nervous energy has been quenched and demolished, forklifted out and a dump truck of sudden shameless lust and drive crashed into them instead. No longer do they even care for what they’re doing, just that it’s fucking wrong and incredible all at once and this is definitely one of Stan’s better ideas.

Kyle is losing his religion.

Stan is creating a new one in his mind. It involves a lot more god flipping.

At one point, Kyle makes an innocent rosary his bitch, holding the cross out from his mouth to prevent any more screams neither of them cares about being heard. He bites down hard on it when he rides Stan, making a show out of it. Stan wishes he brought a camera. He wasn’t expecting Kyle to get into it _that_ much.

But because he has, without warning, Stan punishes the lack of notice by utterly destroying him. He suspects he’ll be out of service for a week, and Stan is primitively proud of himself, like an rabid wolf.

‘’Aah, fuck! Shit- keep going!’ Kyle cries out, words shaking around his sudden harsh movements back and forth, driven by Stan’s dick and loving it so much his tongue sticks out like he can’t manage to even swallow. Stan sees it all and makes his own embarrassing sounds to match, better songs coming from them than any gay-ass choir on Sundays. Kyle spits out the rosary nearly cracked in two with his teeth, and lunges forward to attack Stan’s mouth, the jolting action surprising Stan enough to release all the continued pent up heat, spurting everywhere as he pulls out to make art, blinding him black and blue for seconds or maybe months of otherworldly sensation.

Maybe the angels are getting revenge. He might actually go blind for this.

He doesn’t even notice that Kyle comes too, right after him. He finally wakes up from the eighth dimension to feel Kyle panting and laying his head over Stan’s heart.

‘’Your chest is beating so fucking fast dude,’’ Kyle mutters in awe, breathless. Stan can’t refute that, but so many wheels are churning in his head that he doesn’t want to miss his epiphanies. Kind of like that utmost clarity before a seizure.

They only just appear that second, but already dominate his brain and his ribs only crack harder at the idea. Kyle, fortunately (or maybe not), remains oblivious.

‘’Too bad they lock away the Jesus blood wine huh?’’ Kyle jokes, idly fiddling with Stan’s navel, ear still pressed to heart while they lie there on the cold wooden floor. It’s starting to get uncomfortable. Kyle’s knees must be sore, amongst other things. Stan releases a big pent up breath he was inadvertently holding.

‘’Wouldn’t it be funny if like- we pretended to get married. But actually got married. And stayed that way,’’ Stan blurts, failing to make it sound like a fun casual joke. Shit in hell the angels are already paying him back for the sacrilege.

‘’What?’’ Kyle laughs, tilting his head up to grin in confusion at Stan. Stan sits up, feeling too dizzy to have this conversation lying down in his own come. Kyle follows and keeps his stare trained on him. ‘’What the hell are you talking about?’’

‘’You’ve never like- thought about it?’’ Stan asks, trying to not feel hurt Kyle doesn’t burst into tears at the mere suggestion they could- like he’d been dying without it and waiting so long for Stan to ask. No- nothing like that though. Stan wouldn’t even want that reaction. Not really.

‘’I’ve thought about doing some tacky Las Vegas certificate to give my mom a heart attack like a year ago?’’ Kyle says.

‘’Oh- well, nevermind,’’ Stan sighs, starts to stand up.

‘’Woah hang on!’’ Kyle bursts out, quickly standing too. They both look like sex-wrecked messes, like a jizz candied hooker mattress in LA. ‘’Fuck you! You can’t just say that then go ‘nevermind’. You’re such bullshit Stan!’’

‘’Wha?’’

‘’How long have you been thinking about this? Be honest with me,’’ Kyle says with a scowl.

‘’Well- I- uh-‘’ Stan stutters like a bitch right when he can’t afford to, rendered mush on the tongue. These goddamn angels will not relent. The sex wasn’t that bad guys?? At least Stan didn’t whip Kyle with the rosary. Like maybe he’d strongly considered doing at the time.

‘’Last month? Last year? College? High school?’’ Kyle suggests.

‘’Um- uh, well. Uh- middle school?’’ Stan winces as Kyle’s eyes go huge, but it’s not like lying would do him any fucking good at this point. He’s been completely, punishingly in love with this boy since he was fourteen years old.

‘’Why the hell did you wait that long dude?’’ Kyle asks, not venomous like before- sad-eyed. Regretful.

‘’This church mostly,’’ Stan mutters.

‘’Huh?’’

‘’Well, like Father Maxi was teaching us this whole time that gays were evil and going to hell, and I took it seriously for so long. So- you know. I thought if I made any move on you I’d be doomed.’’

‘’I hate this place,’’ Kyle sniffs after a few seconds in staring silence. ‘’I never liked how it stole you on Sunday’s and brought you back with this god-fearing complex. Like you couldn’t step on a leaf without his wrath falling down on you.’’

‘’I wanted you that whole time dude,’’ Stan says honestly. ‘’I just wasn’t brave enough to walk over and take you. You’re braver than me.’’

‘’What’s this about marriage?’’ Kyle says instead of answering. Suddenly standing on a stage of a church next to a busted podium and chewed up rosary, while naked and covered in your boyfriends come while discussing marriage, is weird.

‘’Would you even want to marry a Judas like me if I asked?’’ Stan asks, half-joking. He’s not Judas- but something pretty bad. The angels mock his dumb hopeful face, so Stan wipes it off.

‘’Oh- is that your definition of asking is it?’’ Kyle asks sarcastically.

‘’I just don’t wanna look like a dumbass if I’m wrong here.’’

‘’You’re about a few years too late dude. And that’s the point of asking, to find out. So ask me motherfucker,’’ Kyle threatens, leaning into Stan’s face angrily. ‘’Ask me.’’ There’s not much steam behind the anger, but it kick starts Stan’s right gear, thank freaking Satan.

Those angels may as well be committing suicide at this point, for what Stan ends up doing.

‘’Shit,’’ Kyle utters under his breath, eyes huge again. Stan is kneeling on the ground, completely vulnerable and probably looking stupider than ever. But ah- to hell with it. It really is a nice looking church anyway.

‘’Kyle-‘’ Stan starts.

‘’Wait!’’ Kyle blurts out, no longer cool and collected. He joins Stan on the ground where he kneels, and grabs his shoulders, eyes reeling wildly. ‘’Shit- I mean. Fuck- Stan, don’t stop, but I kind of had something planned.’’

‘’You did?’’ his voice is fucked, shaking. He was never shaking when he rehearsed in his mind, all those maybe moments he could have done it but chickened out. Kyle laughs, his voice is trashed too.

‘’Well- something more like discussing it over fucking dinner or something- but no this this better. Wait- if you. You’re asking right?’’

‘’Sh’yeah,’’ Stan chuckles awkwardly, chest pumping in his throat. It makes the next few words feel impossible to utter, but Kyle is looking at him, waiting. Hopefully.

‘’K-kyle. Do- you wanna get married? To me?’’ Stan asks. Kyle’s grim expression is immediately lifted. He grins.

‘’Of course I do dumbass,’’ Kyle leaps forward and kisses him, the strength of it pushing them back. Kyle falls on top of him, and they’re not romantically kissing. At all. They’re desperately flailing about and groping and tonguing, and Stan can’t believe he didn’t feel this building up before, how ready they both were- and just waited for each other.

He’ll always associate this church with boredom and longing, but now he can add this perfect thing to it. Sucking it to the angels shaking their heads in disapproval. They can never have what they do, no matter how hard the paint dries. It can only crack and fade now.

So Stan’s pretty okay with it- now that he’s applied this fresh everlasting coat to him and Kyle. It will only get stronger, and he can’t fucking wait for it.

He and Kyle leave the church eventually, strewn about in a damning way and clothes crumpled and dishevelled like the day after a hangover. They drive home to Stan’s parents, and talk the whole way back about how they’re going to break the news. Kyle rules out discussing what they were doing before, and Stan agrees, but he’ll always remember it and the general appealing absurdity of it.

Fucking South Park. He couldn’t have imagined it any other way.

**Author's Note:**

> It was meant to just be hot. But then this shmoopy shit happened instead.


End file.
